Embraced
by CallmeCordelia1
Summary: One-shot. Catherine and Henry share an intimate moment.


_Peace feels so strange after months at the front. It's sad to say I've become accustomed to waking at dawn with a sword at my side, eating stale bread on a marshy field, spending long days in the saddle until I'm sore all over. I'm almost afraid to enjoy the luxuries for I know that the war is far from over. This is merely an intermission and the second act is sure to be as grisly as the first. Both sides have suffered grievous losses, leaving men, supplies, and funds in short supply. The terms of peace were agreed upon, but all too soon the fighting will erupt, just as it always does, and it will be back to the battlefield. A king should not mind war, I suppose, but I have missed home. I have missed her._

Wading through the throngs of new knights, men here to be honoured by King and Court for their acts of valour in the war against Spain, I hungered for the sight of her. The room was stuffy and the air reeked of sweat and wine. Scanning overtop of the faceless masses, I caught sight of her coppery locks. With some careful maneuvering, I got a closer look. Where everyone else saw her poise and a pristine smile, I could see the muscles in her neck straining as her jaw clenched and her hands clasped before her going white from the pressure she was exerting. Each time the men surrounding her spoke, she leaned away, keeping a tight smile on her face. When our eyes connected I noticed that the corners of Catherine's mouth relaxed. Just that little unconscious act on her part made my heart swell. I made my way to her and she allowed me to link her arm through my own. Her hand tucked snuggly in the crook of my elbow, I led her through the crowds who pressed before us, all eager to expound upon what an honour it was to fight for King and country.

Finally, we exited into the deserted hallways. Hearing a deep sigh escape her, I felt the tension in her spine slacken, causing her shoulder to brush against me. With our arms still intertwined, I slowed my pace to suit Catherine's shorter strides and to allow her to guide me towards her chambers with anticipation increasing with every step. Throughout the months of sleeping alone on a damp cot with the sounds of hooves and cannons and arguing generals resounding in my mind, my thoughts turned unbidden to her. I found it comforting to imagine that I caught the scent of my wife, something clean and floral. Lying there with my eyes closed I could almost feel the tips of her curls tickling my chest. I would smile, tasting spices on her breath, cinnamon and cloves mixed with something distinctly _her_.

Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I wondered how often she had thought of me… or rather, if she had thought of me at all. _Not likely. I'm sure she enjoyed her respite from my presence. She probably smiled brighter, suffered fewer headaches, slept with all the peacefulness of a child in my absence. And yet, she hasn't let go of my arm…_

As we entered her chambers, Catherine released her hold on me. I stepped forward into the room, waiting to see what she would do. Nothing exhilarated me like the air of mystery that surrounded her, not knowing what she has in store for me. I didn't look back as the door swung closed. The bolt click and then a deafening stillness pervaded the room. Her approach was as swift and silent as a shadow. Delicate, bejeweled hands reached around from behind to unfasten my doublet. Shrugging my shoulders out of it, I could feel her so near. The tips of her breasts grazing against me. Her warm breath tickling through my shirt. My eyes drooped closed as her small hands found their way under my shirt. Her fingertips retraced the familiar landscape of my body, searching me, embracing me. With her palms against my chest, her arms encircling me, Catherine let out a shuddering breath and enveloped me into herself. I could count on one hand the number of times my wife had held me in this way. She could never be this tender, this comfortable, this vulnerable when my eyes were piercing her. Only with her face buried against my warm back could her walls drop, baring to me her very soul.


End file.
